


Horrible Frightful Sphere of Terrors

by ObsessedFandomNerd



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, How Do I Tag, Jester Lavorre Needs a Hug, POV Caleb Widogast, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Relationship, Self-Loathing Caleb Widogast, Spoilers, Spoilers for Episode 45, because that's all I can write apparently, but this is still a ship fic, just a smidge, she needs a whole lot more than just one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 22:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessedFandomNerd/pseuds/ObsessedFandomNerd
Summary: Jester shows up outside Caleb's door after their awful time in the Happy Fun Ball of Tricks, seeking comfort. Caleb tries his hardest to deliver.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre & Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	Horrible Frightful Sphere of Terrors

**Author's Note:**

> When Jester cries, you know something truly messed up happened.
> 
> Once again, please enjoy my humble offering.

Caleb was roused from his sleep by a soft knock on his cabin door. His eyes shot instinctively over to Nott, draped across her cot on the other side of the room. She was sleeping peacefully, thank the gods, flask dangling from one hand, snoring into her pillow.

Caleb rubbed his eyes and sat up with a groan. Every part of him ached. His ribs and thigh were bruised from the fall, his palms and cheek scraped from where he had hit the floor.  _ Why _ hadn’t he stayed for Caduceus’s healing?

Another knock sounded from the door, impossibly softer than the first.

Quieter. Gentler.  _ Weaker. _

With a grunt, Caleb swung his sore legs over the side of the bed, back cracking as he stood up. 

He opened the door a crack, peering bleary-eyed out into the hallway. There stood Jester, barefoot in her pink nightgown, tail still behind her, the remnants of dried blood flaking off of her forearms. He opened the door wider.

“Jester?” he said, suddenly alert, “Is there something you need?”

One hand came up to rub at her forearm as she turned her gaze down towards her feet.

“Well, I don’t want to bother you or anything,” she said, “But Beau’s not back from watch yet and I…”

She lifted her head to look him in the eye, voice impossibly soft.

_ “...I don’t want to be alone tonight.” _

Caleb stood stock still for a moment, blinking dumbly at her. Then he moved aside, gesturing for her to enter.

“Ja.  _ Ja, _ of course. Please...”

He trailed off as she entered. He closed the door behind her, turning to watch her walk into the center of the room. She cast her eyes over Nott, still snoring peacefully, and then cast a pointed glance at his bed. She turned to look at him over her shoulder.

He nodded.

She padded over to the bed, sitting down on the edge, hands folded neatly in her lap, tail still unmoving where it lay beside her.

Caleb watched, dumbstruck. In all of his time knowing Jester Lavorre, he had  _ never _ seen her this quiet.

Caleb sat down beside her, far enough away that he could place his hands on the bed beside himself without touching her.

He turned to face her, mouth open to ask why she’d come to  _ him _ of all people, to ask if she was okay, to  _ say _ anything to break the  _ silence _ -

His words died on his tongue as tired blue met sad purple, and he found himself opening his arms as far as his aches would allow.

Jester’s eyes flicked down towards his chest and then back up to meet his own. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, expression mirroring her own. She dove into his arms, burying her face in his neck.

If the circumstances weren’t so cruel, Caleb would have thought he really had died in that twisted ball of clockwork.

But the circumstances  _ were _ cruel, so he tentatively wrapped his arms around her waist as he felt his shoulder dampen, Jester shuddering against him.

For all the tears pooling in the crook of Caleb’s neck, for all the deep, quaking tremors that wracked her body, Jester didn’t make a sound. A small whimper would escape her, and she’d clutch tighter at his shirt, snuffing out the small noise and pressing her face deeper into his collar.

Caleb was a bad man. A liar. A thief. A  _ murderer. _ He deserved every punishment the world could throw at him. But this? Watching,  _ feeling _ this beautiful,  _ wonderful _ woman  _ break _ in his arms?

This was torture enough for a hundred lifetimes.

It seemed an eternity before she pulled back, letting her forehead rest on his shoulder as her arms fell to drape around his waist. His hand rubbed slow circles against her back as her breathing evened out.

“I was alone.”

Her voice was so soft. So  _ small. _

“It was dark and there was a dragon and I was  _ all alone. _ ”

_ I wasn’t important enough to stay for. _

She didn’t say it, but he could hear it. He could hear it in the way her breath caught. In the tight line of her mouth. In all the things she didn’t say for the sake of those around her.

She was wrong. She was so,  _ so _ wrong.

His grip on her tightened as he pulled her flush against him, pulling her nearly into his lap, his head against her neck.

“You are not alone, Jester Lavorre. We-”

_ I- _

“-will  _ never _ leave you alone again.”

He pulled his head up, farther than he ought to, his lips near her ear.

“That is a promise.”

Jester was still against him, her palms cool against his back, but her grip remained tight.  _ Too _ tight.

She wasn’t convinced.

Without letting her go, Caleb reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of wire, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Fjord, could you come in here please?”

In his head, he heard a startled grunt and then, in a voice thick with sleep and irritation, “Why?”

“Just come here.”

He pulled back slightly from Jester’s arms. She was staring at him, eyes drying and mouth a confused  _ O _ .

“Nott the Brave!”

His call was quiet, but the use of her title always got Nott’s attention, even in a drunken stupor.

“Wha-whassat?” came Nott’s voice from her pile of tangled blankets.

“Could you call Beau and Caduceus down here please?”

He flashed his wire and cupped his hands around his mouth again. Nott eyed him suspiciously, gaze flitting over Jester in his lap, but sat up and did the same.

“Yasha,” Caleb said into his hands, “I would like to request your valuable arms.”

There was a perplexed hum in his head, but no objection, so he assumed she was coming. He pocketed his wire, shifting in Jester’s grasp.

“All set,” Nott said, turning to face them.

“ _ Wunderbar. _ ”

Caleb moved further back on the bed, laying down and patting the space beside him, eyes trained on Jester. She paused only a moment, then eagerly curled into his side, horns carefully tucked away from his neck, legs winding with his.

“Nott,” he called, arm coming tentatively to rest on her back, “Care to join us?”

Nott, drunk as she was (or maybe because of her drunkenness), scurried over to curl up by their feet as a knock sounded from the door.

“It’s open,” called Caleb from his place on the bed.

The door swung open and Fjord stepped in, shirt untucked and just as scraped and bloodied as the rest of them. He rubbed at his eyes with one scratched and bruised hand.

“Do you have any idea what  _ time-? _ ”

“Exactly one o’clock in the morning,” Caleb said, “Now, if you’d please…”

He patted the other side of the bed. Fjord dropped his hand and looked at them, one eyebrow raising, tusk stubs jutting out the way they always did when he was  _ concerned _ .

“Have you been drinking from Nott’s flask?”

“He hasn’t,” came a slurred voice from the foot of the bed, “Now get over here and cuddle!”

Yasha appeared in the doorway as Fjord cautiously inched his way over to the bed.

“What did you need my arms for?” she asked.

She looked down at the lot of them, face blank as always, one eyebrow quirked. Fjord was just sitting down on the edge of the bed and Caleb could feel it bowing already. He sighed.

“This isn’t going to work.”

He stood up and ushered everyone else off of the bed. Then he gestured to Nott’s bunk on the other side of the room.

“Yasha, if you wouldn’t mind. Fjord, if you could help me here.”

He bent and moved his hands under the mattress where it met the bed frame. Together, the three of them managed to maneuver the two lumpy mattresses to the floor, pushing them together in the center of the small room.

Caleb tossed the pillows and blankets down with them as Beau and Caduceus poked their heads through the doorway. Caduceus cast his gaze around the room, content smile on his face.

“This looks nice,” he said, “What are we doing?”

Caleb dropped down onto one of the mattresses.

“Having a slumber party,” he said.

The rest all stood awkwardly, staring down at him, unmoving.

Suddenly, this felt like a very bad idea. He felt his cheeks heat up as he turned his gaze down to his lap.

Jester was the first to move, kneeling down and crawling to lay next to him, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to lay down with her. He did, stiff as he was, and she curled into his side, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder.

Beau was next, snuggling up behind Jester, arms around her waist, head between her shoulder blades. Nott curled up at Caleb’s feet as Fjord settled down on the far side of the mattress. Yasha was next, settling down next to Beau after some gentle prodding from Caduceus and Beau’s bellowing cries of, “Cuddle meeeee!” Caduceus settled next to Caleb, fur soft and warm against his skin.

They all tossed about, snuggling and tangling into the pile, pulling at blankets and pillows. Caleb’s face was still hot, but his hand was cool where Jester held it.

Soon, all were still, soft snores and the occasional rustle of a blanket the only noise interrupting the silence. As Caleb’s eyelids grew heavy, he turned his head to look at Jester.

To his surprise, she was still awake and staring back at him, a small smile pulling at the corners of her sad eyes.

He felt the corners of his mouth pull up just slightly as he finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Caleb awoke - for the first time in a long,  _ long _ time - from a peaceful sleep. His muscles were much less sore and the scrape on his face felt less raw.

He moved to sit up, but was stopped by a weight on his chest. Blue hair and horns greeted him as he opened his eyes and looked down at Jester, snuggled against his chest and just beginning to stir. He looked around and noticed everyone else had already risen for the day.

Caleb laid back down as he felt his face heat up.

Last night had been... a  _ mistake _ . He had let exhaustion and emotion muddle his mind and he had embarrassed himself beyond belief. Was _ about _ to embarrass himself beyond belief! Maybe, if he laid still enough and closed his eyes, she’d believe he was still asleep.

But Jester was already waking up with a yawn, turning to press her cheek against his chest so she could look up at him with sleep-bleary eyes.

“Good morning,” she murmured, one hand coming up to rub at her eyes.

More often than not, Caleb believed his perfect memory to be a curse - all the horrors and nightmares he could never forget - but in this moment, it was the greatest blessing. This image of Jester - hair tousled and curled from sleep, eyes warm and sparkling in the early morning light, small smile ethereal in the dawn - would remain in his mind, in his  _ heart, _ forever.

That thought stirred something in him. Something that really shouldn’t be stirred.

Jester pushed herself up to lay next to him, face mere inches from his own, fingertips brushing against his beneath the blankets. Her eyes locked with his.

“Thank you, Cayleb” she said, “For…  _ everything _ last night.”

Purple bore into blue with an intensity Caleb had never seen in them before. It was enthralling and dangerously intimate and suddenly he was aware that if he leaned forward, if he tilted his head  _ just so- _

Jester’s hand on his cheek brought him back to reality. Without breaking her gaze from his, she stroked her thumb over his cheekbone, his stubble scratching gently at her palm. Then her lips were on his, soft and full and cool against him.

Surely, this was a dream. The gods had seen fit to bless - no,  _ curse _ \- him with this wonderful illusion. This perfect fantasy that would disappear the moment he opened his eyes.

So when she pulled away for air, he kept his eyes closed, willing this sickeningly happy moment to remain a reality.

Another hand on his other cheek forced him to open his eyes. There lay Jester, eyes shining and smile bright, holding his face gently in her hands.

“You are real,” he murmured, so close his lips brushed against hers as he spoke.

She giggled and leaned up to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You are a silly man, Cayleb Widogast.”

Then her lips were on his again and her hands were in his hair and his were pulling at her hips.

And it was only a matter of time before someone came looking for them, but gods damn them all because Jester Lavorre was smiling and giggling against him, and for the first time in a very,  _ very _ long time, Caleb Widogast allowed one of the cracks in his heart to fill with  _ hope _ .

**Author's Note:**

> All I'm gonna say is: Matthew Mercer did NOT need to traumatize them that much.


End file.
